


the beginning, the end, and the soup that makes us

by Zealkin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:05:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zealkin/pseuds/Zealkin
Summary: Have you made it to that place? Where the world stops and he's there, eye of the storm-still and waiting for you?





	the beginning, the end, and the soup that makes us

* * *

 

 

 

When it rains, he aches. He listens to music and doesn’t leave bed.  
  
When Lucio lifts his knee to untangle it from the sheets of his mattress, he thinks there should be something attached to it. All that’s left of his legs is the phantom. The half-believed notion in his mind that there might be a calf, a foot, a toe if he just looks hard enough.  
  
There isn’t, he knows this, has told it to himself over and over ever since the accident. Rain inundates those memories though, turns them silicone, forces them through the cracks in his fingers.   
  
When he finally rolls out of bed to check his phone, everyone on base is out doing something or the other and Lucio doesn’t feel like putting on his more functional prosthetics. His basics have the same lime green, accented with purple instead of blue.  
  
He sits them up against his chair, but can’t force himself to put them on.

  
—

  
When it rains, he aches. He forces himself to train, only to ache more.  
  
If Genji pushes hard enough, it almost feels like he is not a waking ghost— his body flesh instead of chrome. He has stopped hating the various mechanisms that make him breathe, make him sigh when he looks at himself in the mirror. Still, each day presents a new challenge, a new pain he hadn’t realized was there.  
  
The rain reminds him of typhoons, wind and water whir in his mind’s eye and makes using a sword feel uncomfortable. He thinks in too many directions, has been called ‘bird brain’ for the greater part of his adolescence for this reason.  
  
When the noiselessness of the training room becomes too much, even for him, he walks aimlessly throughout the base.  
  
That his feet always lead him to Lucio’s door is no surprise to him. He sighs before keying in the personal code given to him.

  
—

  
The rub is Acai. The familiar smell permeates the room as Lucio massages it onto the stumps of his legs. It reminds him of home but that has its own trappings, its own neatly packaged pains that Lucio doesn’t feel like unraveling in the moment.  
  
When Genji opens the door the memories flood in with him.  
  
He can feel the pain, his own, his lover’s, they coalesce and rush over him as the door glides closed.  
  
He beckons Genji with his forefinger. A gesture that they often use to tease now being used to admonish. He has been training too hard again. Lucio can tell by the slight stiffness in his shoulders. The want to collapse in on himself present, his stubbornness the only thing keeping him from doing so.  
  
“Sit,” he says.  
  
At first, Genji doesn’t listen. He looks at everything but Lucio before his eyes land on the rub between his legs.  
  
Genji undoes his mask and sits beside him, their knees bumping together.

  
—

  
The rub is sticky. Lucio is careful with the parts of him that are still flesh, undoes Genji’s armor before softly rubbing between the cracks.  
  
Genji was always expected to get up when he fell as a child. When there were scrapes, his father told him to weather them and continue training. Hanzo would spoil him with a bandaid every now and again, but after awhile, that too, stopped.  
  
Lucio’s hands are always sweltering. Genji thinks the heat followed him here from Brazil, thinks the warmth is what drew Genji to him to begin with.  
  
He is in his own type of pain, too.  
  
When he finishes, Genji stops him from replacing his armor, and instead returns the favor, rubs the sweet Acai over Lucio’s thighs and stomach.  
  
He dresses his arms and hands with it, breathes in the scent of fruit and sweat on his neck.

  
—

  
Lucio stares.  
  
An understanding passes in the space amidst their breaths. What is human and what is not doesn’t matter so much as the boiling point between them.  
  
The pads of Genji’s fingers rub pleasantly along his neck when he kisses him. Firm, consistent pressure building alongside the heat of the room.  
  
Their limbs coil around each other, completing, affirming. Whole.  
  
The rain beats down on the windowpane, harder and harder. Their voices are drowned out, but their limbs no longer ache.

  
—

  
Genji’s eyes struggle to stay open.  
  
A cat-nap midday does not suit him. The deep brown of Lucio’s thighs wrapped around him tell him otherwise.  
  
He settles, lets the balm of his presence calm him like the rain should.  
  
He reconsiders. It is a good day to rest. 

 


End file.
